


Calloused

by sheiksleopardthong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, I'm so sorry, M/M, but it's not as gay as the summary, but like, i make everything gay, i suck, it's really vague, like whatever, only shippy if you want it to be, really it's just kinda cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheiksleopardthong/pseuds/sheiksleopardthong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can't be that righteous, he's still so high above me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calloused

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gootbuttheichou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gootbuttheichou/gifts).



The sky was long-dark and the only sounds, once the loud impala engine shut off, were the unseen crickets as Sam and Dean stepped out of the car. Dean wandered over to the reception desk while Sam grabbed their duffel bags, checking in under "Wallace" and looking around the lobby as the clerk turned around to grab the room key. His gaze lingered on a small cardboard box labelled _Lost & Found_ peeking its way out from the back filled with what looked like mostly phone chargers. What caught Dean's eye, though, was the guitar leaning out of the box, against the wall.

"Hey," he pointed to the box, "you know who lost that guitar?"

The woman shook her head. "It's been here about a month. I figure the owner's long gone by now. Never returned any of my calls about it."

"You think I could...take it?" his voice was hesitant, brow knit in worry that she'd say no, or that she'd say yes and it would make him remember the shittier parts of his teen years.

"Sure, I don't see why not," she shrugged and went over to grab the instrument, handing it to Dean along with the room key. "See you at checkout."

He nodded and ditched the guitar in the backseat of the impala before meeting Sam and going into the room, collapsing into bed right away and leaving Sam to prepare for bed as the only conscious one in the room. Being awake was for chumps, after all.

Dean woke up before Sam did the next morning , which was unusual, but it gave him an opportunity he wouldn't otherwise have.

A quick note read 'Gone for breakfast, be back soon', put on the pillow of his bed, was enough for when the younger Winchester would awaken.

In the meantime, Dean loaded into his car and took off for the nearest music store.

It was open, thankfully, and Dean took the guitar in. It was a little beat up, the wood rough, and a couple of the strings were missing.

It didn't take him long to find the strings he needed and a pick that wasn't a dumb colour, pay for them, and sit on the hood of the impala in the chill morning air, stringing the guitar and tuning it carefully.

When he was done, Dean put the guitar back in the car carefully and drove back to the hotel, stopping to get a breakfast burrito from the corner store for Sam.

Sam didn't seem too impressed by the processed breakfast, but ate it all the same as he piled into the passenger's seat.

Dean thanked the receptionist with a polite nod as he returned his key - it wasn't the same woman as the night previous, and he hoped she'd seen the gratitude in his eyes when he'd been handed the guitar.

Dean Winchester had long since stopped pretending he was a competent liar.

They hit the road, stopping to solve a ghost case - a bust, just creaky floorboards and a stray raccoon - before setting down for the night in yet another small town they couldn't name if they tried.

Sam went out for a beer, saying he needed some time to unwind, and gave Dean an incredulous look when the elder Winchester said he'd just stay in the motel that night. But Sam left without a word.

Once Sam had been gone a half hour, Dean went out to the car and fetched his new guitar, sitting on the foot of his bed with it and letting his fingers rest on the strings as he strummed a few of the chords he remembered.

He fumbled on his first try of the F chord, but once he could transition in and out of it with ease he hummed softly as he played _Hey Jude_ about half as fast as it was supposed to go.

The end of the third verse cut of with a fumble as he was distracted by a familiar gravelly voice's "Dean".

"Shit - Cas!" he hastily put down the guitar and glowered at the angel who'd appeared on Sam's bed while Dean's attention had been elsewhere. "Stop doing that."

"I didn't know you played the guitar," Cas ignored Dean's exclamation and gestured with his head to the instrument. The very human motion looked out of place on the angel, sitting stark straight, hands on his knees.

"Er, yeah. A long time ago," he said quietly. They sat in silence for an awkward moment before Dean spoke again. "Do you...need anything?"

"No." Cas looked at Dean finally. "You don't have to stop playing now that I'm here, Dean."

"Well - !" Dean blinked in surprise. "I've uh, never played in front of anyone and..."

"Please. Continue."

Swallowing and nodding, Dean picked the instrument back up and strummed it quietly before playing a more lyrical version of _Living on a Prayer_. Cas wouldn't recognize it, which made Dean a little less embarrassed.

When the song ended, Cas' eyes were still on the guitar, and Dean took a nervous breath before speaking:

"You want me to, ah, teach you a little?"

Instead of saying anything, Cas walked over and sat beside Dean on his bed. Dean silently placed the guitar in the angel's hands and showed him how to hold it.

"Oh, here," Dean pulled the pick out of his pocket and handed it o Cas. Jimmy's fingers were soft, years of paperwork earning him silk hands. But Cas refused the plastic, a determined look in his eye that Dean couldn't place.

It didn't take Cas long to learn proper strumming technique, so Dean moved on to a couple of chords, slipping behind Cas when neither of them were paying attention to keep his fingers on the right strings.

The door to their room rattled before it opened, causing them both to jump and Dean to keep back, suddenly all too aware of the position he'd been in behind Cas.

Sam looked between them, then to the guitar in Cas' hands, before heading into the bathroom and starting up the shower.

The strumming started up again and Dean moved to watch Cas again - a little red now that Sam had seen them, but ignoring it to humour the angel.

Blood flecked off Cas' fingers as he played and Dean put a warning hand on his shoulder.

"Woah, you can't play with blood on your hands; you'll get the strings all rusty. How'd that even - "

"I...slipped. When Sam came in."

"Yeah, well why don't you heal yourself, I'll clean up the guitar and - "

"No, Dean. I'd rather...stop, for now."

"Er...okay. If you want."

Cas snapped and the guitar was clean, as was his hand, but the cut - and slight friction burn across the rest of the angel's fingers - remained.

"You're not gonna heal yourself?"

Cas didn't respond, only looked contemplatively at his hands.

"Thank you, Dean." Was all he said before disappearing, the human having to leap forward to catch the guitar before it clattered to the floor without Cas' lap to balance on.

Dean leaned the guitar up against the wall - no point hiding it now that Sam had seen it. And he lay back, closing his eyes, ignoring when Sam came out of the bathroom, and when he turned off the light, and when he said "goodnight" softly.

Dean fell asleep like he learned the guitar: slowly, and then all at once.


End file.
